


Bite of the Mantis King

by LittyBrit



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:18:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19399735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittyBrit/pseuds/LittyBrit
Summary: Nobody knows where the Espectros came from, or why - only that they appeared suddenly more than twenty years ago, before Aizen ascended the throne.Nnoitra, the brash and thrill-seeking prince, is the only voice demanding answers in his unchanging world. Shortly after his eighteenth birthday, he disappears.Betrayed for his father's ends, Nnoitra is made an Espectro like no other. Cast out into the desert, he is taken under the wing of an Espectro with a strange accent and a powerful grudge.They return two years later with vengeance in their hearts.





	1. The Well

_The despair of the mantis_

_Who knows a bird watches._

Tesla 

The city of Pozo lay nestled within the encircling walls like a child in the hands of its father. Bathed in the warm, heady afternoon sun, the towering spires of the cathedral to the west and the palace to the north seemed to shimmer. The auburn tiles of the houses scattered at their feet reflected the sun and dazzled the walls' noble guards.

The spring, most beautiful of all, dominated the centre of the city. Born from an underground river, cultivated and sustained by the people, it was now far larger than when their forebears had first discovered it; a perfect oval lake with water so bountiful it was as if the gods had blessed it. Palms, shrubs and flowers grew around its rim, and carefully maintained fields of wheat, barley, olives, dates, figs and peaches flourished where the spring's magic touched.

Tesla could not help but snatch glimpses of the view from his post. It was so much more pleasing than endless desert beyond, stretching out to eternity on all sides. Occasionally an Espectro, white and hollow-eyed, would stagger about a few hundred yards away, moaning as it went. Tension would spike, but then the monster would wander away, and the watching and waiting would continue.

He did not like to think of their duty as useless. Although Tesla had personally never seen an Espectro stray too close and force the hands of their archers, such incidents had occurred before. As long as the monsters lived, the watch spanning more than twenty years was necessary. Tesla took pride in that knowledge.

Yet, as he stole admiring glances over the sun-bathed cityscape, his eyes fell longingly upon the palace, gleaming like the moon on a clear night.

When he had first joined the city's army, no such lofty ambitions had entered his head.

That changed when he first met Nnoitra, the crown prince.

Relieved from his post, Tesla made his way down hundreds of steps to the city below.

Fish roasted on wire racks in the sun, their sharp tang mixing with the soft aroma of baked bread filling the open air. Pop-up markets bursting with colour and chatter lined the winding cobbled streets. People bustled to and fro with boxes of fireworks, tools and props. Crates of babbling livestock were carried on the shoulders of farmers or pulled by horses on carts backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. Pozo itself seemed to sing with the voices of its people.

Some children darted past Tesla's legs. The leader wore crude paper mantis claws on his hands and antennae on his head.

The children following cried: "Where shall we go, Santa Teresa, Santa Teresa?"

Their leader replied: "To the spring, my people, the spring!"

Tesla smiled. The Fiesta de Santa Teresa was coming again.

* * *

Pozo's barracks dominated the north-east of the city; a vast rectangular building of red brick and white accents, cut into three conjoined squares by generous courtyards. The entrance to the barracks led Tesla into the central courtyard, the largest of the three. It was there that he found the prince engaged in combat.

The shriek of clashing blades cut through the heat. Clouds of dust streaked as feet scraped back and forth, fighting for dominance.

Nnoitra laughed, knocking his opponent off-balance. The soldier staggered, and a kick from the prince's boot sent him sprawling to the ground. They finished with Nnoitra's blade poised between the loser's eyes.

Nnoitra was grinning. "That was good! I felt my blood pumping!"

He lowered his blade and stretched out a hand, pulling the soldier to his feet.

"Get stronger, Rodrigo," said the prince. "I want to go on longer next time!"

The soldier nodded. "Yes, sir."

Tesla smiled. The prince visited the barracks daily, and had done for years, long before Tesla joined up.

Nnoitra noticed Tesla and the other onlookers and approached, sword in hand. "Ha! Newcomers!" he cried.

The prince was a good two feet taller than the average man; a thin, towering presence clad in the clean white uniform shared by the military and nobility, adorned with gold buttons and crescent moon symbols on the high collar. Nnoitra wore his jacket open, revealing his bare chest. He stuffed one hand into the pocket of his dust-coated trousers, taking long, breezy steps. His short black hair was slick with sweat.

Nnoitra's eyes fell on Tesla and glinted. "Where've you come from, soldier?" he asked.

Tesla straightened up. "The Walls, Your Highness."

Nnoitra snorted. " _There,_ huh? How much do they pay you to be gargoyles, eh? Ha!"

Tesla didn't know what to say, so kept quiet. The prince kept talking.

"Goddamn waste of men!" he declared, shouldering his weapon. "The Espectros eat what's closest to 'em - each other! They ain't interested in food they can't get at! I would know!"

It was no secret that Nnoitra frequently snuck out of the city and fought the monsters, sometimes returning with a severed head for a prize.

The prince sighed. "Whatever. Father won't hear it. May as well talk to the fucking Walls."

Tesla remained silent. Nnoitra grinned at him. He had one of the biggest and liveliest grins Tesla knew.

"Your sword ain't rusted, has it?"

Tesla put a hand on the hilt of his sword. "No, sir."

"Good. Get ready!"

Tesla drew and took a leap back. Nnoitra did the same - then lunged. His blade crashed against Tesla's own. Tesla's legs buckled. Their swords were forged from the same steel of unparalleled hardness and flexibility, but Nnoitra's strength brought the weight of the world down on his body. Any more and his arms would snap.

Breaking away, Tesla threw himself back to gain distance, but Nnoitra's sword was long, and his reach wide. Sweeping low, he knocked Tesla's legs from under him.

Tesla fell hard onto his side. Half-blinded by dust, he slashed outward, but Nnoitra sent his sword flying with a single swipe.

Nnoitra lowered the tip of his blade to Tesla's face. Tesla grabbed it with his gloved hands, clenching tight.

The prince's grin faltered. "The hell're you doing?" he asked. "It's over. You lost."

Tesla said nothing, breathing hard. His body burned with adrenaline. But he let go.

Nnoitra shouldered his sword, frowning. "Did you think you could beat me?"

"No, sir," said Tesla.

Nnoitra clicked his tongue. Tesla had never seen his eyes so dark and cold. "Fighting a battle you think you'll lose? Pathetic."

"With the greatest respect, sir," said Tesla, "warriors who don't give their all in battle are infinitely more so."

Nnoitra was silent for a moment. Then he laughed. "I like you, soldier! What's your name?"

Tesla relaxed. For a moment, the prince they knew vanished behind a bleak, impenetrable wall. Now he was back again. "Tesla Lindocruz, sir."

Nnoitra grinned, stretching out a hand. Tesla took it, and pulled to his feet. Face-to-face with the prince, the young soldier could see himself reflected in his eyes.

"Tesla. I'll remember that."

Tesla smiled, reminded again why he wished to protect this man.

Nnoitra 

What a funny guy. As Tesla's comrades crowded around to cheer and joke, Nnoitra reminded himself of why he kept coming here. Soldiers, by and large, weren't spoon-sucking kiss-arses - the type of people who would crawl snivelling from a fight.

Nnoitra could stomach soldiers. Soldiers made _use_ of the breath in their bodies. Good use. Progress, improvement - life was in constant flux between the bragging and bluster. Even with no war or strife, they were always moving forward, putting their all into every step. 

Tesla was a prime example. When the kid had grabbed his sword, Nnoitra had felt his will like a punch to the gut. A damn good punch to the gut.

Scarcely older than Nnoitra's seventeen years, Tesla had more warrior pride than any of the sorry idiots at the palace.

That was what it was to be a warrior. You fought with every bit of blood and muscle in your body, no matter what.

Nnoitra's fingers twitched. For a moment, he had forgotten that. That knowledge, like precious spring water, had slipped away from his mind. 

"So this is where you were," a woman's voice remarked coldly. "What a surprise."

Nnoitra scowled, tasting bitterness in his mouth. He turned and locked eyes with the female approaching him.

Nelliel, his sister.

She, too, wore white. Her uniform clasped every contour of her figure, the gold buttons of the jacket done up to the neck. Her white boots crunched across the gravel, every step slow and deliberate. Hair the same strange greenish-blue of the city's glistening spring flowed down her back.

"I thought Father told you to convene with Senator Zommari?"

Nelliel's amber eyes gazed at Nnoitra. They had their mother's colour, but none of her warmth. Her eyes were as cold and unreachable as the spring's depths.

"I'm testing out our troops," said Nnoitra, staring her down. "What's wrong with that?"

Nelliel stopped, giving him a withering look. "Do you take me for a fool, Nnoitra? You come here every day, shirking your duties."

"As far as I'm concerned, this _is_ my duty!" Nnoitra retorted. "The fuck am I supposed to learn cooped up in the goddamn library? Or talking to old farts who know the crack of their asses better than what goes on down here!"

Nelliel was looking at him as a master looks at a disobedient dog.

"You know that's not true," she said. Sighing, she began sliding her sword from its sheath. "But warriors speak with their blades. Prove me wrong - if you can."

Nnoitra knew he was being baited. Of course he did. But backing down wasn't him.

He drew, and faced her. Soldiers had gathered to watch, forming a sizeable, silent crowd.

Nnoitra charged. His sword had an abnormally long hilt, which he swung with both hands like an axe. He brought it down on Nelliel's head. She parried, forced down on one knee to take the weight. Nnoitra grinned. He kicked her, sending her rolling across the gravel.

Like the wind, he leapt after her. Nelliel got up and aimed a stab to his face. Nnoitra dodged, but barely - he felt the rush of wind as the steel cut past his ear.

Nelliel seized her chance. Closing in, she grabbed Nnoitra by the hair and pulled him down, jamming a knee into his gut.

Nnoitra wheezed, breath ripped from his throat. His sword-hand lost its grip, and Nelliel kicked the blade across the gravel.

"It's over, Nnoitra," she said.

Nnoitra grabbed Nelliel by the throat and squeezed. His head boiled. _The fuck it is!_

Her eyes showed only displeasure, as if his grip was just an inconvenience.

"Fool," she whispered.

Nnoitra yelled as steel cut into the flesh of his leg. Nelliel jerked free, taking her sword with her.

Nnoitra clasped his bleeding wound and glared at his sister. She looked down at him with her proud eyes, the master of a chastised dog. The slight upturn of her lips confirmed it. She'd wanted this. She'd _planned_ this.

"Bitch," he spat. "Dirty, stinking bitch."

Nelliel frowned and addressed the gathered soldiers. "This is your prince," she said. "A sore loser who shirks his duties. Is this the king you want?"

"A warrior gives every fight his all, Your Highness."

Tesla's voice. Nnoitra spotted the soldier at the front of the crowd, holding Nelliel in his steady, earnest gaze.

If Nelliel was surprised, she hid it well. "This is no warrior," she said. "Only a man drunk on the liquor of battle."

Nnoitra lurched to his feet. " _You…!_ "

"He is a warrior to us, ma'am," said Tesla.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, some of discomfort, others agreement. A grin broke across Nnoitra's face, bursting with glee. Nobody had challenged his sister like this before. Nobody besides himself. Tesla was calm as the oasis spring when he did it, too. Defiance with the utmost respect.

Nnoitra's ankle and pride still hurt, but the pain had dulled somewhat. He saw his sister's stone face and laughed.

"Funny guy, ain't he, sis?"

Nelliel 

Impudent, foolish child. What had her brother ever done for him to earn such words? Almost all Nnoitra did was chase battle. Humans, monsters, nothing was off-limits.

When he wasn't fighting, Nnoitra went down into the city to drown in frivolous merrymaking.

The people responded positively to his attention, it seemed, but with a crown on his head Nnoitra would be nothing but a warmongering despot. Diplomacy, paperwork, anything that didn't involve the rush of blood and bite of steel, was worthless to him. 

To think this man would be king!

She looked down at the blond youth and said: "You would do well to find better objects of your admiration, soldier."

The young man, wisely, did not reply. His eyes, however, quietly defied her.

Turning to Nnoitra, she said: "Come, little brother. Enough foolishness. Let me dress that wound for you."

Nnoitra spat on the ground, throwing her a look of utter hatred before limping away in the opposite direction.

Nelliel sighed. Things would never change. No matter how she tried to humble him, her brother still clung to his childishness.

She turned to the gathered soldiers. "Don't you all have more important things to do?"

They dispersed, scrambling out of her sight. Nelliel saw the blond soldier approach her brother. She tensed. Nnoitra's foul moods did not take kindly to pity.

To her surprise, she heard the soldier say: "Will you come tomorrow, Your Highness?"

To her further surprise, her brother answered: "Duh. Something like this ain't gonna keep me away!"

Nelliel couldn't see his face, but she could hear a grin in his voice.

Nnoitra continued on his way. The soldier watched him go before moving away himself. His eyes met Nelliel's for a brief moment. Mild as they were, there was an unrepentant steadfastness in their look.

Nelliel tasted bitterness. Her brother was a coarse, bloodthirsty beast, yet people still worshipped him.

Turning on her heel, she made her way to the palace. Their father would know what happened today.

Aizen 

Szayelapollo responded promptly to his summons as always. The king had long come to expect diligence from him, more than even Nelliel, his most obedient child.

The alchemist bowed low before him. "What is your will, sire?"

Aizen smiled. "In less than five months time, my son's eighteenth birthday will be upon us. I hope the preparations are going well?"

Szayel nodded. "Indeed, sire. Everything is moving smoothly. I assure you that by the time the Fiesta arrives, it will be complete."

Aizen's smile widened. "Then I shan't keep you any longer, Szayel. Continue your work."

The alchemist bowed and left the room.

Aizen pondered silently on his throne. Nnoitra. It was a pity. A young man of his nature, combined with his father's ideals, would have carried on his work beautifully.

Still, it wasn't a waste.

Smiling, Aizen called a servant to him and asked for some tea.


	2. Fiesta de Santa Teresa

_The bird strikes._  
_Prayers cannot reach it._

  
Tesla

The city was resplendent in green; banners with the crest of Santa Teresa hung proudly from windows and walls and paper chains of dancing mantises criss-crossed from house to house so thickly it was as if a forest canopy hung above their heads. People waved flags, cheered, sang and danced. Almost everybody wore green of some kind - dresses, hats, shirts, shoes, anything and everything.

Tesla's ears rang and he couldn't stop smiling. He and his comrades were busy keeping order and ensuring the safety of the citizens, but it was impossible not to be drawn into the joy surrounding them.

An elderly woman wearing a large, green straw hat approached him. She carried a tray of fruit cakes coated in dusted sugar. They were _Pasteles de Santa Teresa_.

"Have one, young man!" she said.

"Oh, thank you, ma'am," said Tesla, "but -"

A pastry was stuffed into his mouth before he could finish.

"Santa Teresa bless you!" cried the old woman before hobbling away into the crowds.

Tesla hurriedly scarfed down his treat while his comrades laughed. 

A procession was due that morning, and Tesla walked down the street politely ordering everyone to keep to the sides. In the evening a grand fireworks display would be the highlight of the celebrations. Everyone would gather around the spring, blazing colours reflecting on the water's surface. It was the one event the king would attend.

As Tesla passed he heard snatches of chatter from the crowds.

"Ma, will we see the prince again?" a child cried.

"I would think so," said his mother. "He always comes."

Nnoitra arrived much earlier than his relatives, sometimes taking part in the morning procession. He sang surprisingly well, and never missed an opportunity to show off this fact. The soldiers always laughed to see the man who dyed the air green with his language sing such comparatively innocent songs.

Tesla never laughed. Nnoitra was a man of many faces and talents. While nobody could take him for a prince, they could take him for a man, and a man they liked too.

As the time drew close, Tesla continued ushering everyone back, half an ear listening for Nnoitra's loud laughter.

Nnoitra

Nnoitra seethed as he was marched to the throne room. An audience with Aizen meant only one thing - he was about to get both ears scolded off, along with whatever other punishment the king could think up.

 _Neliel_ , he thought bitterly. Since their confrontation at the barracks a few months prior, Nnoitra had continued his escapades despite increased supervision and revoked privileges. As long as he had arms and legs to move and a brain with which to think, he would find a way out.

The stone walls of the corridors were as white and featureless as the desert sands. Endless white, wherever Nnoitra looked, wherever Nnoitra went. It didn't matter how much Nnoitra complained, or what he did to leave something of himself on the walls. Even additions to his own room were swiftly removed. Everything dissolved into the white and disappeared. 

The throne room encapsulated everything Nnoitra hated about the palace. With the exception of the throne itself, the vast space was entirely empty. Whitewashed walls clashed with black marble flooring like two eternally warring blades. Giant marble columns supported the vaulted ceiling; a white, unreachable sky. It had been this way since Nnoitra could remember.

Nnoitra's father looked down on him from his throne. He wore no finery or jewels over his robes, but his presence was like the moon; a distant, inescapable light that commanded the darkness. Aizen was often compared to the moon in poems and in song. Favourably, that is.

Nnoitra's muscles tensed. He could never shake the feeling that the floor would open up and drown him in darkness.

Aizen's eyes, warm and comforting to others, were like unfathomable pits now. 

"Nnoitra," Aizen said, making him twitch. "We have a matter to discuss."

"Can't it wait?" Nnoitra asked. "The procession's soon."

Aizen frowned. "That is _exactly_ the problem. It's the procession, it's the barracks, it's always anything _but_ the tasks I set for you. Your sister has dutifully made up for your negligence on multiple occasions over the years, but as my son and heir, you must fulfill all your royal obligations. Whether they are _fun_ or not."

Nnoitra clenched his jaw and threw Neliel a dirty look. She stood at her father's right hand, gazing coolly back at him.

"This starts from now," Aizen went on. "You are no longer a child. There will be no more excuses, no more excursions. You will understand what it is to be king, my son."

Nnoitra felt heat rising up the back of his head. Father, Neliel, the senators, the priests, they all thought the same - _he just wants to play, he doesn't care about the kingdom. He wants a sword, not the crown._

But that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all!

"Father-!"

"I don't recall asking you to speak," said Aizen quietly. He sighed. "You will not be permitted to leave the palace today. Neliel will attend the festivities in your place."

"But-!"

Aizen slammed a fist on the arm of his throne. The bang echoed like cannonfire. 

Nnoitra's fists trembled.

"You will be taken to your first place of instruction - the library," said Aizen. "Szayelapollo will meet you there. Then you will join me in a meeting with the visiting ambassador from the Sho Kingdom-"

"We'd better fucking discuss our Espectro problem with him!" Nnoitra hissed.

Aizen continued as if he hadn't heard. "You will dine with us in the great hall. You will then spend the rest of the day entertaining our guests. If you so much as dare try to shirk these duties, I will personally ensure you do not leave this palace for a month. And if that means confining you to your chambers, so be it."

Tears of rage stung Nnoitra's eyes. "Rinse and repeat 'till I die, right?"

His father's eyes were so terrible that Nnoitra willed the floor to swallow him.

"Am I clear, Nnoitra?"

Nnoitra nodded. He couldn't speak.

Aizen smiled. "Wonderful. Off you go."

Two guards approached Nnoitra from either side, ushering him out. One took Nnoitra's arm.

Nnoitra smacked his hand away. "Get the fuck off me!"

His eyes met Neliel's. They were like his father's.

Nnoitra stormed out. The guards quickly matched his desperate steps. Their eyes never left him.

Terror and fury made his senses painfully acute. He could feel the bare walls, he could hear the silence, he could see the endless, empty, pointless days stretching as far as his frenzied mind could imagine.

Nothing changed. The wall stood. The Espectros remained at large. The endless white rejected all life. No explanation. No effort. Nothing.

He thought of Neliel and her eyes and her silence.

Nnoitra clenched his teeth. _Father can't make me Neliel. He can lock me up - I'll smash down the walls. He can point his blade at me - I'll snap it in two!_

Burning with defiance, Nnoitra planned his next move. The alternative was not an option.

  
Neliel

Neliel almost laughed at how grossly Nnoitra had overreacted. People would think he'd been given a death sentence!

It was disgusting how little Nnoitra thought of his own birthright. As a man, he claimed the crown in spite of his inferiority to her in years.

On the evening of their confrontation at the barracks, Neliel had spoken with her father. Informing him of Nnoitra's self-indulgent excursion, passion overcame her and she cried: _"Father, your heir is more of a beast than a man! Why do you uphold the law that favors him? For the kingdom's sake…"_

But no matter what she said, no matter how much evidence was laid bare before him, Aizen would not relent. He acknowledged Nnoitra's flaws, but continued to employ methods that failed. He seemed convinced that he just needed to keep trying and Nnoitra would become the king Pozo needed. The kind of person she was already.

Now Aizen was a little stricter, but knowing her brother it would only make him push harder against their father's will.

Why could Nnoitra not see how useless it was? Why could he not see what was best? They had a happy and peaceful kingdom because of Aizen's walls, because of Aizen's watch, and Aizen's kind leadership.

If Nnoitra could stop fighting everything, he would be happy too.

More than that, he would be thankful for what he had, and what he was bound by law to receive. He had everything in the world, yet still he complained.

Neliel smiled bitterly. She would enjoy the fireworks tonight.

  
Nnoitra

Exhausted and fuming, Nnoitra staggered into his bedchamber and collapsed into a chair. The of the fireworks had long ceased. The silence of the palace pressed down on his chest like an icy hand.

He had to get out of here.

Nnoitra was halfway to the door when a knock and familiar call stopped him.

"Your Highness, may I come in?"

Nnoitra sighed. It could be a message or instruction from his father. If it was, and he ignored it, Nnoitra would only bring attention to himself and his intentions.

"Fine."

A young woman with black hair scrunched into tight pigtails entered, pushing a trolley clattering with a tall white teapot, mugs and plates.

Nnoitra couldn't recall her name.

She bowed. "His Majesty thought your Highness would like some refreshment."

Nnoitra relaxed a little. Just that? Well, it _was_ what he needed. His mind and body had to perk up if he was going to fight the Espectro. Normally he would sleep and try again tomorrow, but Aizen had stolen his day away - the Fiesta day at that. He wasn't going to yield his night as well.

"Fine, what is it?"

"Tea, sir," the girl replied.

"Always the goddamn tea!" Nnoitra muttered. "Ain't he heard of coffee?"

The girl frowned, almost pouting. Nnoitra's lip curled. Was she seriously offended on behalf of his father?

Nnoitra sat back down. "Bring it, then."

She did so. Nnoitra watched her pour it. When she was finished, the girl bowed again left him to drink his tea in silence. He watched the moon outside his window, planning his escape route. 

When mug was empty, Nnoitra put his plan into action. Leaving the room, he turned left and strode down the corridor.

_Act casual. Nothing's wrong. Just taking a stroll._

The royal guard were sticklers for Aizen's rules, but there were passages even the king didn't know about, whispered to him by Senator Barragan before he died, years ago. A bit of stealth served Nnoitra well too. The guards couldn't catch what they couldn't see or hear.

He had done it before, he could do it again.

As he turned a corner, Nnoitra felt his head swoon, the white of the walls and floors swimming and blending before his eyes.

Nnoitra stopped, slamming a hand on the wall to keep standing. His heart pounded. His head was heavy, and getting heavier by the minute. He pressed it against the wall.

_Stop. Stop!_

"Your will is admirable, my son."

Through his blurring vision he saw two figures approaching him. He saw his father's face, and that of the alchemist Szayelapollo.

They were smiling.

Nnoitra clenched his shaking fists. " _You_ …"

"I have always expected great things of you," the king went on. "Of course, they were different, years ago, but this change will yield interesting fruit nonetheless."

Nnoitra staggered. His head buzzed uncontrollably. " _F-fucker_ ," he slurred. " _I'll_ …"

His legs gave out, and the darkness swallowed him.

Tesla

Prince Nnoitra had never missed a Fiesta. Tesla lay in bed alongside his sleeping comrades and wondered what could have kept the prince away.

Nnoitra had seemed in perfect health yesterday. It seemed unlikely that the prince would become ill enough overnight to miss the event he loved the most.

Perhaps his father, the king, had put his foot down and kept Nnoitra away? That was more likely. It was clear from Nnoitra and his sister that their father did not look kindly on his son's activities.

Tesla had saved a pastelería for the prince. He didn't know whether Nnoitra would appreciate a reminder of what he missed out on, but Tesla had bought it anyway. Nnoitra might be cheered to see that he was not forgotten.

Tesla closed his eyes. There was always tomorrow. 

Shinji

They _had_ to kill him. Shinji reminded himself again as an old guilt threatened to surface. He wandered under the waxing moon with what was left of his band of vagabonds, trying to stave away the memories.

The kid had lasted a long time, longer than most Espectros his age. But all Espectros, sooner or later, go mad. Tonight had been Jinta's turn.

They'd had to kill him. He'd eaten Ururu's face. Jinta had gone. Two more comrades had gone. 

Shinji threw back his head and screamed at the moon. "Aizen! Asshole!"

Twenty years had passed in the eternal desert. He would wait a little longer. He had to. Somewhere there wandered a monster who could stand alongside him and take the bastard on. He needed strength unlike any other. He needed sanity, too.

He did not know how long the others could hold out. Nor, for that matter, himself. 

Shinji kept walking. The alternative was not an option.

**Author's Note:**

> The city of Pozo was inspired by the walled city of Avila, Spain. Back when I wrote the original draft for this fic 8+ plus years ago, I visited Avila on holiday. Wonderful place!
> 
> 'Espectro' translates to 'spectre', 'ghost' or 'ghoul' among other things.


End file.
